


laundry day

by h_lovely



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Anal Sex, Banter, Lingerie, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Riding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-23
Updated: 2018-05-23
Packaged: 2019-05-13 01:34:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14739590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/h_lovely/pseuds/h_lovely
Summary: Hanamakiforgetsto put the laundry in the dryer.





	laundry day

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Cheesyshenanigans](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cheesyshenanigans/gifts).



> This is a birthday gift for an incredible artist, friend, and just generally wonderful human being [Cheesy!](https://cheesyshenanigans.tumblr.com/) Happy birthday, I hope you enjoy ;3

The issue, Hanamaki thinks as he contemplates the stove before him, is that it’s just too damn hot. 

Too hot to run the dryer, too hot to cook anything decent in their decrepit oven, almost too hot to cook anything at all. Too hot to be wearing a shirt. _Definitely_ too hot for pants. 

“Takahiro,” comes a voice from the hall. “Have you seen my blue shorts anywhere?” 

They could run the central air, if they lived in an apartment complex that catered to _ever_ being cool in the dead heat of summer. He could park himself in front of the swamp cooler in their bedroom, or maybe stick his head in the freezer—

“Hiro?” The voice is getting closer now, just about rounding the corner into the kitchen. “Why didn’t you put any of the laundry in the dryer?”

It had been Hanamaki’s turn to do laundry, the only problem was that it had been Hanamaki’s turn to do laundry and Hanamaki is nothing if not forgetful. And hot, _so goddamn hot—_

“Too hot to run the dryer,” he says to the space somewhere behind him, but the last bit is cut off by a loud slap against the counter that has Hanamaki literally startling. 

“What,” Matsukawa starts and Hanamaki had almost (incredibly) forgotten that all of his clothes were still sopping wet sitting in the washer. _All of them._

When he turns he’s met with Matsukawa’s eyes sharp on him, particularly on his lower half currently covered in a barely-there set of lacey pink panties that live in the bottom of his underwear drawer for only the most special of occasions. Or, he supposes, when he’s got no other underwear left on laundry day. 

Matsukawa seems to be holding very stiffly onto the counter top, almost like he might fall over if he lets go. “What,” he begins again. “ _What_ are you doing?” 

Hanamaki blinks, feeling a little lethargic from the stifling heat surrounding him. He cannot wait until the sun sets and maybe they can finally get some relief. “Thinking about what to make for dinner that will give off the least amount of residual heat,” he answers, going back to staring contemplatively at the stovetop. 

“But,” Matsukawa swallows and Hanamaki can understand. He’s been particularly parched all day and a tall glass of ice water would be _so_ _nice_ right about now. “In lingerie?” 

At the word Hanamaki pauses, hand hovering just over the freezer's handle. He can’t quite manage to fight back the smirk that tugs at his lips, sweltering temperature or not. “It was this or bare-ass naked, Issei,” he replies, like it’s obvious. 

He turns back to the refrigerator, feeling Matsukawa’s gaze drifting low to where he knows the lace is stretched taught across his ass. Matsukawa’s voice is rough when he speaks. “Let’s order takeout—"

Hanamaki hums, a comeback already loaded in the chamber. “Fine, but _you’re_ going to have to answer the door.” 

“— _after_ you come and join me on the couch.”

That last bit sounds farther away and impossibly deeper and when Hanamaki turns again he’s met with Matsukawa’s sideways gaze from the room adjacent to the kitchen, long legs bent and splayed as he sits casually in the middle of their couch. 

Hanamaki’s fingers twitch against the door handle, Matsukawa’s look full of promise and if Hanamaki was hot before, now he’s practically on _fire_. 

Fuck laundry, this is _way_ better. 

The lace over the front of his cock feels a little bit tighter now, probably a little more slick. Hanamaki takes slow steps, the tile beneath his feet satisfyingly cool as he saunters over to stand before Matsukawa. 

Matsukawa observes him, looking up at him through thick lashes. “Well?” 

Hanamaki shrugs, his own gaze roving. “Aren’t you a little warm?” he says, gesturing to Matsukawa’s still fully clothed body. 

A snort of amusement escapes Matsukawa’s throat and then in one fluid motion he’s pulling his t-shirt up and over his head, tossing it to land nowhere near the laundry closet. Then, because apparently he’s done with banter, Matsukawa paws at Hanamaki’s bare thigh until Hanamaki shuffles closer between his open legs. 

Hanamaki does him one better though, lifting himself up to straddle Matsukawa on the couch, their bodies sinking into the plush cushions together. 

“I don’t think this is going to cool you down,” Matsukawa murmurs, fingering the fabric clinging to Hanamaki’s hipbones. 

Hanamaki leans into the touch, arching his back as he moves to hover lips next to Matsukawa’s ear. “How many more jokes about the fucking heat are we going to make before—”

His words morph into a gasp when Matsukawa’s tongue trails wetly against the side of his neck, stopping at his shoulder to press a few kisses there. Hanamaki can feel his arousal start to burn a little brighter and when teeth nip at his skin he can’t stop his hips from jumping forward against Matsukawa’s firm abdomen. 

Matsukawa soothes the bite with his tongue, grinning. “You started it,” he says in response to Hanamaki’s earlier question. 

Pulling back Hanamaki tries to fit him with his best scowl, but Matsukawa’s blown, dark eyes leave him at a loss. “Well, this escalated very quickly didn’t it?” 

“What did you expect, wearing nothing but lace in the middle of our kitchen on a weekday?” Matsukawa dead-pans. 

Hanamaki shoots him an equally blank look. “You getting after me about finishing the laundry, probably.” 

Matsukawa’s lips fall into a smirk, his laughter soft as he shakes his head looking entirely endeared. “I’ll need to get some things from the bedroom if we’re really doing this.”

“Already thought of that, actually.” Hanamaki leans expertly to the side to swipe at the lube and condoms there before bending back up, muscles flexing, and pressing the items into Matsukawa’s hand. 

“Wait, really?” Matsukawa’s brows raise in surprise. “If I didn’t know any better I’d say this was planned—” Hanamaki cuts him off with a firm kiss against his mouth, deepening it only when Matsukawa relaxes against him. He swipes his tongue forward, teasing at Matsukawa’s own and sucking loudly at his lower lip. He shifts to rest his hands on the broad shoulders in front of him, the movement causing his backside to rub against the bulge he can feel in Matsukawa’s shorts. 

A sound comes rumbling from within Matsukawa’s throat and two hands come to palm at the soft flesh of Hanamaki’s ass, squeezing. In retaliation Hanamaki grinds back down and oh, their last layers of clothing are definitely going to have to _go_. 

Apparently Matsukawa agrees because suddenly he’s tapping firmly at Hanamaki’s flank. “Up,” he instructs against his lips and Hanamaki is more than happy to oblige. 

Rising up onto his knees Hanamaki watches from his peripheral as Matsukawa grabs the edge of lingerie, tugging the back down just enough to reveal the swell of Hanamaki’s cheeks. He squirms a little at the drag of fabric over his erection, keeping it firmly held in place, but he swallows down his protest when Matsukawa pops open the lube. 

If he had any sense, Hanamaki thinks he’d already be overheating. Thank fuck for that icy cold shower he’d indulged in earlier. Thank fuck for Matsukawa’s hands digging so sweetly into the squish of his ass. Thank fuck—

The lube is cold against his rim and for once he’s so glad of that. It tickles a little, the way Matsukawa smooths the slick against his sensitive skin, swirling and then pressing in, slow and steady. 

“Mmm.” Hanamaki leans in to press his mouth into Matsukawa’s neck, providing a better angle and _oh shit_ —Matsukawa knows his body _so well._

“God, Hiro,” Matsukawa hisses, thrusting his finger in and out, tentatively kneading into the taught muscles with each pass. “So hot.”

“You’re telling me—“ Hanamaki quips before his voice stutters around a sharp moan when Matsukawa presses _just right_ inside of him. 

It’s been a little while since they’d last fooled around to this extent, so Matsukawa takes his time to ease Hanamaki’s body open. When he finally adds a second finger alongside the first Hanamaki tenses at the stretch, but Matsukawa’s lips trailing up his jaw to suckle at his ear leave him feeling tingly and light. 

Hanamaki’s dick twitches where it’s still caught between them when Matsukawa massages the pad of his middle finger into his prostate, unrelenting. “I—okay, I’m ready—come on,” Hanamaki gasps out, pushing back against Matsukawa’s fingers pointedly. 

Matsukawa, because he’s Matsukawa, takes his time in acquiescing. He taps against Hanamaki’s insides some more, scissoring his fingers and making sure Hanamaki is well and thoroughly prepped before slipping out of him with a wet sound. 

At the loss Hanamaki drags is fingers down Matsukawa’s sides, leaving soft pink lines in his tanned skin as he goes. He beats Matsukawa to the button of his shorts, tearing them open and tugging impatiently.

“Hiro,” Matsukawa chuckles low in his ear, grappling at Hanamaki’s wrists and pulling until he scoots back enough on Matsukawa’s thighs to allow his cock to finally makes an appearance. 

Matsukawa tugs his shorts and briefs down just enough and is already reaching for a condom when Hanamaki’s brain clicks back to reality and his own erection strains yet again at damp, constricting lace. He makes a move at removing the panties altogether but Matsukawa stops him with a firm hand on his forearm and a dark look.

“Leave them on,” he asks, but it’s not much of a question if Hanamaki is reading it right. “For me?” 

Hanamaki understands that he’s the one who started this game of teasing, but his lizard brain is telling him strip and ride Matsukawa _hard_ right this very second. 

That last part seems to actually be a viable option however when Matsukawa releases his arm in order to focus his attention back on the condom and his own very needy erection. Hanamaki watches with half his mind still fogged over as Matsukawa rolls the condom down, drizzling extra lube, and that’s enough for Hanamaki.

Pressing back up onto his knees Hanamaki shuffles forward, placing some crooked kisses against the corner of Matsukawa’s mouth, drinking in the little sounds he makes as Hanamaki reaches back for his cock. 

“Need you,” Hanamaki breathes against his slick lips. “Right now, Issei.” 

The air between them is hot, stifling carbon dioxide when Hanamaki sinks slowly down onto Matsukawa. There’s an impulse deep in his gut that tells him to go fast, but his thighs tremble with just how slow he’s forcing his body to go instead. 

He feels Matsukawa’s hands settle on the dip of his hips and when he focuses his gaze he finds Matsukawa staring up at him, reverent and warm and since when had this gone from playful, teasing fucking to something soft and tender. 

Hanamaki shivers when he finally bottoms out, breathing as he adjusts to the fullness. Matsukawa leans in, careful not to jostle, and flutters a kiss over his lips and then, Hanamaki decides, he’s ready. He tangles fingers into the damp curls at the nape of Matsukawa’s neck, tipping forward and lifting up just enough to fall back down and really start to feel it, deep and pleasing. 

Matsukawa lets him start up the rhythm, patient until Hanamaki’s muscles start to burn just a little and he flinches at Matsukawa’s thumbs dragging across his chest, across his nipples. Then suddenly Matsukawa is grabbing him, holding him steady and pumping up and the angle is just right, just enough to force a keening sound from Hanamaki’s lungs.

Matsukawa growls something unintelligible into the sweat-slick skin of Hanamaki’s neck, driving into him with a force so different from that soft, affectionate expression from moments before. It takes Hanamaki’s breath from his throat—in the best possible way. 

Somewhere along the line they start to meet in the middle, which might be difficult if they didn’t know each other so well, their rhythms one in the same. 

On a particularly accurate thrust Hanamaki feels his quads tremble and the soft lace he’d plucked from his drawer earlier is now bordering on painful against the heated, weeping skin of his cock. 

“ _Issei—_ ” 

It doesn’t take more than his breathless plea for Matsukawa’s hand to dip into his waistband, finally pulling him free and even though the air is still thick with heat, the precum smeared across the head of his cock feels ice cool as Matsukawa’s thumb soothes up and over the slit. 

Hanamaki can’t stop himself from rolling his hips down and when Matsukawa grips him fully in his hand, twisting and pulling in practiced motions, he’s absolutely _gone_. 

His body shakes as he rides out his orgasm, Matsukawa fucking him through it. Hanamaki drifts slowly from the high, adjusting himself in Matsukawa’s lap because he’s starting now to fall over the edge into oversensitivity when he sees how incredibly disheveled the other man looks. 

Matsukawa’s chest burns red with flush and there’s a couple of small marks already starting to form at the base of his neck that Hanamaki isn’t even sure he remembers putting there. His mouth is slack and plush from all their making-out and Hanamaki can’t resist leaning up into him, wrapping arms around his shoulders to layer a few more kisses against those inviting lips. 

Matsukawa thrusts up once, twice and then stills, buried deep and panting into Hanamaki’s mouth. 

It takes a few minutes, maybe more, for them both to ease apart from one another. Hanamaki’s body feels heavy and lethargic and he’s not sure if it’s from the new warmth radiating through their apartment or the mind-blowing orgasm. 

When Matsukawa pulls out of him Hanamaki winces at the obscene sound and the way Matsukawa holds him in his lap, pressing him into his chest uncaring of the sticky mess between them or the condom rubbing at Hanamaki’s ass. He would laugh, or maybe bitch, but he can’t help going dead weight in Matsukawa’s embrace. 

“So,” Matsukawa murmurs, slow and languid.“Did you do that on purpose?”

Hanamaki can’t stop the smirk that rubs at Matsukawa’s skin. “What?”

“Forget to put the laundry in the dryer.” 

Hanamaki manages a gasp. “Issei, how could you accuse me of such a thing?” he says, but he’s too tired and too warm to hide the amusement in his voice. “I already told you, it’s too damn hot to run the dryer today.”

“But not too hot for impromptu couch sex?” 

“Impromptu? Please, I’ve been thinking about this all day.” 

When Matsukawa digs teasing fingers into his side, Hanamaki thinks (through his laughter) that maybe he’ll leave the laundry—just for one more day. 

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on:  
> [tumblr](https://h-lovely.tumblr.com/)  
>   
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/hlovelyyy)  
>   
> 


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